Spread Your Wings
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: A collection of Next-Gen drabbles. First: After reading Sirius' journal, James Sirius doubts whether he's ready to come out. / Teddy comes home from work after an... incident at the office. Victoire is amused. / Molly accidentally uncovers a secret of Lucy's. Sister fluff.
1. All of Me

**A/N: Hey y'all! So… this is angsty. Sorry.**

**Word Count: 539**

**WARNINGS: This deals with a character trying to decide if they're ready to come out as gay. Mentions of homophobia.**

**Enjoy!**

James Sirius Potter stared down at the book in his hands, his heart heavy. He scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling much older than his sixteen years. He was holding the journal of one Sirius Black, and his heart ached when he thought about its contents.

He'd read some of the entries.

_I kissed Remus today, and if Mother knew that, she'd kill me. _

_Euphemia and Fleamont say they'll love me no matter what, but I can't help but wonder if that promise would hold if they knew the truth._

_I think I'm in love with Remus. I think he might be the traitor._

_I broke up with Remus today. It was supposed to be a quiet affair, but he started crying and shouting. I couldn't tell him that I was afraid of James finding out our secret—that I was afraid of anyone finding out our secret—so I accused him of betraying us. I've never seen him look so broken._

_It's been thirteen years, and I still haven't stopped loving him. I can see it in his eyes, though—Tonks is his new love. And they seem happy._

James shook his head, trying to clear it. He'd found the book spelled shut beneath some boxes in the attic; it was so dust covered, James' father might not have even read it. And judging from the entries James had read, Sirius Black had never disclosed his sexuality to his godson.

James fell back on his bed and groaned. He'd thought he'd been ready to tell his father that he liked men, but now he was having second thoughts. He wasn't enthusisastic to test the waters—as far as he knew, Harry didn't even know any gay men… that he knew about, anyway.

With a sigh, James sat up and reached for his broom and its polishing kit. He needed to keep his hands busy.

Not ten minutes later, Albus barged in without knocking. James leveled a glare at him, but the green-eyed boy just pointed at the rag James was rubbing up and down the broom handle.

"What's the matter?"

Curse the observantness of Slytherins.

James tried to appear as threatening as possible, but it must not have been scary enough, because Albus made himself at home on the floor. "I'm not leaving until you tell me. You've been acting strange all day."

James didn't respond. He wasn't ready to come out yet, he realized; he just wasn't. Albus seemed to recognize that he wasn't going to say anything and stood.

"You don't have to tell me," the younger boy said quietly, "but at least come down to dinner, yeah? And whatever's bothering you… I won't think any less of you for it."

And then he was gone, and James was once again left to his thoughts.

James' hazel gaze flickered to the journal, unassuming on top of the duvet. His brow furrowed. Sirius hadn't had any luck when it came to his own love life, but things were different now. The world had changed since the 1970s, since the 1990s.

He'd wait a couple days, maybe, but he would tell his family. He wanted them to know and love every part of him.

James had a feeling that they would.


	2. Je t'aime

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. TeddyVictoire silliness… because why not?**

**Home Economics and Domestic Magic Task 2: Write about someone physically small.**

**Word Count: 837**

**Note: I used Google for the French… I'm so sorry if it's not accurate.**

**Many thanks to Bex for betaing!**

**Enjoy!**

Teddy Lupin was not a vain person. Yes, he had the power to Metamorph himself into whomever he chose, but aside from changing his hair color, he was comfortable in his own skin.

At least… that's what he led almost everyone to believe.

"It's not funny, Harry," he groused from the passenger's seat of the car. "It's really _not funny_."

"It really _is,_" Harry argued gleefully. "I love you, Ted, but I can't just not laugh at this."

Harry's eyes were fixed on the road as he drove, but his mirth was clear in those green orbs. Teddy really wished that he was the one driving—it calmed him, and Harry had insisted on teaching him—but in his current… _situation_ there would be a slight discrepancy with his driver's license.

"Argh." Teddy shrank down in his seat. "Worst godfather ever," he complained, but his tone lacked any real bite. "Laughing at my pain. Enjoying my suffering."

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't respond until he'd safely parked in front of the flat Teddy shared with Victoire, his girlfriend. After the car was stopped, Harry turned to face his godson fully.

"You did some great field work today, Teddy. To be frank, I'm just glad that the curse you were hit with didn't do worse—and you should be, too."

Teddy pouted. He knew Harry was right, but it was still mildly humiliating to be without his Metamorphmagus abilities, no matter how temporary. It was like he was in a skin that wasn't quite _right_. Still, he had to concede that Harry had a point.

He took off his seat belt with a sigh. "I'll see you in forty-eight hours, then. If Healer McMillan is right."

Harry snorted. "He always is."

That made Teddy's lips twitch, but his good humor died quickly as he exited the car and walked up to his flat. He stuck the key in the lock and slipped inside. Once the door was firmly shut behind him, Teddy toed off his boots slowly. He could hear Victoire pottering about in the kitchen and wanted to hold off on seeing her for as long as he could—he knew exactly what her reaction would be to his story.

Unfortunately, she'd heard the door open. She peeked around the doorway curiously.

"Oh, Teddy." Her lips curled upward in a shark-like grin, and he scowled in response.

"Not a _word_," he warned. "I can still hex you, you know."

His girlfriend didn't pay him any mind. She walked slowly through the sitting room towards where he was still standing by the door, looking like she was struggling to hold in a laugh. She quirked an eyebrow. "Bad day at work?"

Glowering, Teddy threw himself onto the sofa with a huff. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and winced. His mousy brown hair wasn't something he typically walked around in, but it was preferable to the second thing he'd inherited from his mother. He had his dad's eyes, face, and build, but Teddy hadn't been fortunate enough to get the height.

When he could choose for himself, he stood a good two inches taller than Victoire, who was on the taller side of average for a woman. Without his Morph, however…

Victoire happily sat beside him and took advantage of the situation. She pecked him on the forehead and wrapped her arms around him. "Finally, I don't have to stand on my tiptoes to do that," she teased. "Now _you're_ looking up at _me_."

"Don't get used to it," Teddy groused. "Forty-eight hours at most, the Healer promised."

Victoire's blue eyes were sparkling with mirth—Teddy wasn't entirely sure she and Harry didn't share blood, their expression was so similar. "I'll cherish those forty-eight hours forever, then."

"You're mean." Wiggling out of her arms, Teddy maneuvered himself so his head was in Victoire's lap, his knees hooked over the arm of the sofa. "As mean as Harry, even."

"Mmm." Victoire's face softened, and she ran her fingers gently through Teddy's locks, just as he'd known she would. "It really isn't that bad, _mon amour_. You're as handsome as ever, even four inches shorter."

"My clothes don't fit right," he complained—except that Victoire was making his annoyance melt away, which really wouldn't do. "It'll be harder to reach things. James will make fun of me even more than you will."

Victoire only barely refrained from smiling; Teddy had to admit that he loved the way she sucked in her freckled cheeks when doing that. She touched the tip of her finger to his nose and leaned forward, her long, silvery-blonde hair tickling his jaw. "You whine too much," she whispered. "And besides, there are upsides to this." A smirk overtook her features. "There's less of you to fit in my lap."

Teddy considered this for a moment. "I suppose that's true," he said grudgingly.

Victoire laughed, carefree and happy. "_Je_ _t'aime_, Teddy Lupin."

"Huh." His amber eyes were crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her. "_Je t'aime, aussi._"


	3. Take a Breath

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some Next-Gen sister fluff. :)**

**Technomancy Task 2: Write about uncovering a juicy secret**

**Word Count: 1178**

**Note: I headcanon Molly II as ADHD. That's the hyperactivity shown and lack of focus, though I tried not to over-exaggerate those behaviors. **

**Enjoy!**

Molly fiddled with the golden locket, a frown on her freckled face. She glanced up at her sister, who was at the vanity brushing her already-perfect hair. Molly's hand went up to her own short, messy red bob and once again marveled at how different she and her sister were. But that wasn't the issue on hand. "So… you wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Blue eyes met blue in the vanity's mirror. Lucy's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, causing Molly's stomach to churn with worry. "I just wanted to talk to you. We don't talk as much as we used to."

Something was _definitely_ wrong. Molly began fidgeting, her hands twisting in her lap and fingers drumming against her denim-clad thighs. "Right, well, what did you want to talk about?"

Lucy stood, tall and lithe, the exact opposite of Molly. Her brown hair was pulled over one shoulder, her blue glasses were slightly crooked on her nose, just as their father's tended to sit—on the outside, everything screamed normal Lucy. But Molly couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lucy was private, and it was very unlike her to bring Molly into her room to _talk_.

"Whatever you'd like to discuss, Molly. How is life post-graduation treating you?"

"Oh, it's been lovely." Molly kicked her feet up and down and bit her lip. "Uncle Charlie was nice to help me get that internship at the dragon sanctuary."

A genuine smile graced Lucy's features. "You and Uncle Charlie have always been the best of fiends, haven't you?"

Molly shrugged. "He's fun. Doesn't ask me about my education. And his job is cool."

Lucy finally looked over her shoulder to face Molly properly. "Dad's job isn't boring, you know."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Molly threw her legs up on the mattress of Lucy's bed and lied down on her stomach. "You've always liked paperwork."

Lucy snorted, and Molly grinned a little; it wasn't often the Ravenclaw laughed. "You know very well that's not all he does. Anyway, enough about that—what has been going on in your life? Any new people I should know about?"

"Nope." Molly's hands slid under her sister's pillow. "Still single, still happy, still—oh." Her fingers met cool metal, and she pulled it out with curiosity.

Lucy's eyes widened. "Wait—"

"Oh Godric. Oh Godric, Dad's going to _kill_ you." Molly gaped at the ring she was holding. It was simple and elegant, yes, but Molly knew just what it was for. She looked up at her sister, surprise written all over her face. "Lorcan proposed?"

Lucy set down her hairbrush, a dark flush staining her pale cheeks. "Put that back," she hissed.

"And you didn't tell anyone!"

"No, of course I—well—Molly, give me the ring!" Lucy stretched out a hand, and Molly dropped it in, still stunned. With shaking hands, Lucy placed the ring on her finger. It really was beautiful, but this news was… unexpected.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Molly asked quietly after several seconds had passed. She wouldn't pretend not to be hurt; she knew Lucy was a private person, yes, but they'd always shared important things with each other. "Aren't you happy about this?"

Straightening her glasses anxiously, the older girl nodded. "Yes, yes of course. Lorcan is…" Her eyes softened, and some of the tension left her shoulders. "He's wonderful. _More_ than wonderful. But neither of us want a big wedding." She looked back at Molly then, her face completely solemn. "You mustn't say anything, Molly. If word gets out about this, Mum and Grandma will… you know what they'll do."

Molly rocketed into a sitting position, her eyes bulging. "You're eloping? And you're just—going to hope they never find out you're married?"

This was shocking. Lucy was twenty years old, and had only been dating Lorcan Scamander for a year—although, the two had known each other for much longer. But it wasn't just the speed of the engagement that was out of character; Lucy never rocked the boat. Molly was the troublemaker, the reckless one, the sister who couldn't for the life of her focus on a single thing.

Eloping… eloping seemed extremely impulsive for Lucy Weasley.

"Of course not," Lucy snapped. "I'm not going to lie to everyone. They'll just find out afterwards."

It would not go over well, Molly knew. Her namesake never missed a chance to gather the family, and their mother would be upset about the lack of pictures—and the fact that she'd missed her oldest daughter's wedding, of course.

The tension would be horrible, and worst of all—

"Great." Molly dropped her head in her hands and groaned. "Now I'm an accomplice."

"This isn't a crime, Molly."

"It might as well be! Merlin, dinners are going to be terrible for the next few months."

"Molly." Lucy's voice was trembling, and she walked over so she could sit beside her sister on the bed. She reached out to straighten the locket around Molly's neck, and Molly couldn't help but stare at the gold band. "Molly, I need you to swear to me that you won't say anything." She grasped the younger girl's hands in her own. "It's important to me that no one knows… Weddings aren't everyone's style."

Rolling her eyes, Molly brought her sister into a hug. "Of course I'll keep your secret." She pressed her cheek against Lucy's shoulder. "I want you to be happy, you know." She paused. "And Lucy Scamander doesn't sound half bad."

Lucy's shoulders shook as she laughed breathily. "How do you know it won't be Lorcan Weasley?"

"Oh, Merlin. Poor man."

Lucy laughed loudly this time and pushed away the younger girl. For a moment, she was all smiles, and the two girls just sat there grinning at each other. But the moment passed, and something more solemn crept into Lucy's eyes.

"You don't mind not being able to attend."

Molly looked at her incredulously. "You do realize they'll make you celebrate it with the family, right? I'd rather attend a reception than a service any day." Then she smiled more gently—and more sadly. "You're not… you're not going to stick around here, are you?"

Lucy's gaze fell to her lap. "We're thinking about moving to Wales," she admitted. "We'll visit, of course, and the move would be after the reception—Lorcan and I have that planned out, yes, I know Mum—but…" Lucy put a hand on Molly's round cheek. "This isn't goodbye," she whispered. "I promise it isn't, Molly."

Bowing her head, the younger girl nodded. She leaned into her sister's touch. "Make sure it isn't. "And… Lucy?"

"Hmm?"

Molly grabbed her sister's hand. "I'm really, really glad that you're marrying Lorcan." Her eyes sparkled. "I've always wanted a brother."

Lucy shook her head amusedly. "And he told me he's always wanted a sister. You two are just exactly alike."

"Well, he has my stamp of approval," Molly informed her sister. "That's very important, you know."

"Well, thank Merlin for that."

The sisters stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter, twin grins splitting their faces.


	4. Quiet

**A/N: Hey, y'all! Have some Harry&Scorpius bonding. Because Scorpius is invited to all the Potter camping trips, and no one can tell me otherwise. :P**

**Zoology Task 7: Write about someone enjoying time spent in nature.**

**Word Count: 796**

**Enjoy!**

Harry breathed deeply, trying to lull himself back to sleep. It was so rare that he got a moment of peace nowadays, but all the hiking he and his family had done earlier seemed to have finally worn his kids out; all three of them were sleeping like a log.

He wasn't sure what had woken him, but figured it had most likely been some small critter in the woods. They were camping, after all; there were bound to be unfamiliar noises.

But just as Harry's green eyes were closing, he heard the sound of distinctly human footsteps outside; not an animal, then. Old instincts kicked in, and Harry grabbed his wand and silently crept from his tent, careful not to disturb Ginny. He remembered to pick up his glasses, too, so when he peered into the night he was at less of a disadvantage.

To his surprise, it was Scorpius Malfoy he saw in the moonlight. Harry frowned. He was used to Albus' boyfriend—he found Scorpius to be much more tolerable than his father, actually—but something about Scorpius' posture told Harry that this was new territory.

He wasn't about to let that stop him from seeing what was bothering the boy, though. He made his way over, careful to make some noise as to not startle the fifteen-year-old.

"Scorpius?" Harry dropped a hand on the Slytherin's shoulder. "What are you doing up? It's the middle of the night."

Scorpius turned to Harry, his grey eyes—so much kinder than his father's—full of surprise. "Oh, hullo Mr. Potter." He rubbed the back of his neck and shot Harry an embarrassed smile. "I was just looking at the stars. I'll go back to sleep soon, I promise."

"Looking at the stars?" Harry's gaze flitted upwards. "Mind if I join you?"

Scorpius shook his head, so Harry settled beside him. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, but eventually, Harry turned back to the boy.

"I think we both know you're not out here just to look at the stars," he said.

The blush that dusted Scorpius' cheeks was barely visible in the moonlight. He looked shyly at Harry, but the Head Auror wasn't about to back down; Scorpius had become another one of his sons during the year he'd dated Albus.

"Promise you won't tell my father?" Scorpius asked quietly.

"I won't, unless this something is hurting you," Harry vowed. "You can talk to me about anything, Scorpius."

A small smile flickered over Scorpius' face. "I just… I guess I just like the quiet out here. I don't want to go back home tomorrow," he admitted. "It's… it's like an escape, I guess? Home… home is so loud sometimes. Well—I mean, Dad wants me to do better than he did, and he's always so worried, and that expectation is loud. Or heavy. Or—I dunno." Scorpius broke off, embarrassed. "It sounds stupid."

Harry looked around. Trees surrounded them, standing tall and proud in the night. The stars shone brightly, accompanied by the moon, and the sound of crickets filled the air. It was so effortlessly peaceful here. There was none of the buzz of life; all responsibilities felt so far away.

"No," Harry said slowly, shaking his head, "I think I understand." He pulled Scorpius into a fatherly embrace and murmured, "Sometimes we all need a little room to breathe."

Scorpius smiled a little shakily, and the expression was mirrored on Harry's own face. He remembered that strange relief when the war had ended; Voldemort was finally gone and Harry had the space he'd longed for for so long, but he'd been at a loss as to what direction to head in next.

What Scorpius was feeling was a bit different, but the idea was the same, Harry decided.

"Your dad doesn't want to pressure you into anything," Harry assured him. "That's what your grandfather did to him; he just doesn't want you to make the same mistakes he did. But there's nothing wrong with needing to get away from everything for a few nights."

Scorpius looked at him gratefully; Harry pretended not to notice the moisture building in the boy's eyes. "Thanks for inviting me on your family camping trip, Mr. Potter," he said thickly after a moment.

Harry leaned back into the grass and grinned at Scorpius. "You're family, Scorpius. We wouldn't dream of doing this without you."

Nodding happily, Scorpius turned his gaze back to the scenery. Harry enjoyed the quiet with him for a bit longer before patting the boy's back in farewell and heading back to sleep.

He missed the relaxed smile that crossed the boy's face and the thanks in Scorpius' eyes, but that was okay. There would be many more nights in the future for him to express all that.


	5. Truce

**A/N: Just some Ron family fluff. :)**

**Archaeology Task 12: Write about someone/thing cold.**

**Word Count: 1088**

**Enjoy!**

Five years ago, if anyone had told Ron that he would one day be happily making hot chocolate for his two kids while his wife ran the entirety of wizarding Britain, he'd have called them barmy. Mad. Ridiculous. He'd never pictured himself as the domestic type at all, much less a stay at home dad.

But now, as the radio played softly in the background, as the milk heated on the stove, as his kids' shrieks of laughter could be heard from where they were playing outside in the snow… he couldn't imagine his life any differently.

Ron was just putting a generous heaping of whipped cream atop the drinks (his kids knew better than to let their mother know) when Hugo and Rose burst through the front door. Turning around with two mugs in hand, Ron grinned widely at the kids—until he saw what Rose was clutching protectively to her little chest.

"Whoa!" Ron set down the drinks and hurried over to his daughter. "Rosie, what—what have you got there?"

"A cat!" she told him excitedly, her dark eyes shining. Despite how tightly she and her brother had been bundled, their faces and hands were red from the cold. It didn't damper their excitement though, and Ron had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

"Can we keep him Daddy?" Rose begged, looking up at him. "Please?"

Ron looked back at the cat—which, upon closer inspection, wasn't a cat at all; it was a kneazle. The poor thing looked freezing: ice clung to the tips of its fur, it was shivering and too thin…

But Ron was having terrible flashbacks to Crookshanks. That kneazle had hated him, he was sure of it, despite what everyone told him. A day didn't go by that Crokshanks didn't hiss or swipe at him. No, Ron was definitely not someone who got on with cats—or cat-like creatures, as it were.

And yet… Hugo and Rose were so hopeful. They had big grins on their faces, Hugo was practically on the tips of his toes—and Ron knew how desperately Hermione missed Crookshanks. He would be the only one with a problem.

He exhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd be the one to look after this kneazle the most, he knew; Hermione was at work all day, and his children were hardly equipped to look after a pet. Because of this, he reasoned, he had every right to refuse.

"We have to check for a tag first," he found himself saying warily. He ran a hand over his freckled face as his kids cheered.

* * *

A few wand waves later, and Ron discovered that there was no collar for the creature, nor was there an identification chip (Muggles could easily mistake kneazles for cats). So he was stuck with the furball.

And _it didn't like him_. He could tell. It wriggled away from him when he tried to wrap it up in a blanket. It glared at him when he set a bowl of sardines in front of it. It scampered away when he was checking its sex—female. Extremely out of his depth, Ron just got the fire going and put the bowl of food next to a bundle of blankets, warning his kids to give the kneazle some space.

The kneazle watched him suspiciously, but she eventually staggered over to the bowl and began eating. Ron sighed heavily and handed his kids their mugs of hot chocolate. He supposed there was nothing to do until Hemrione got home. Maybe she could contact Luna; she was an expert in magical creatures. Ron would call her himself, but he hadn't yet mastered the fellytone—the cellypone—whatever the hell it was.

From beside Ron on the sofa, Hugo shivered. He and his sister had warmed up considerably, but Ron could tell that his boy was still a bit cold. He smiled fondly down at the little boy and tugged him up against his side.

"Warm up, kiddo," he murmured. "You've had a big day."

He carded his fingers through Hugo's red hair. The three-year-old nodded sleepily, his eyelids drooping closed. The mug of hot chocolate was empty in his hand, dangerously close to falling onto the floor.

"Yeah," Hugo agreed sleepily. He blinked up at his father. "The cat was cold."

Ron's heart clenched. It seemed that Hugo considered it the utmost importance to inform his father of that fact.

"I think she was scared," Hugo whispered to Ron in his tiny voice, as if the kneazle could hear them. "She was shaking. But Rose picked her up."

Ron _had_ wondered why the kneazle had been so trusting of his kids, but he could picture Rose slowly approaching the creature with muttered words of comfort. And in any case, kneazles were known for their intelligence; she must not have sensed any danger from the kids. She had sensed it from Ron, however, and he couldn't exactly blame her.

"Well, she's warming up now," he murmured to his son. "She'll be right as rain in no time."

Hugo smiled, taking his word for it. As the little boy snuggled into his side and fell asleep, his sister beginning to snore on the other side of him, Ron hoped that he hadn't been leading his kids wrong.

He glanced at the clock, then at the kneazle. Despite her thinness, she didn't seem to be in terrible shape—a little scruffy, maybe, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. Hermione would be home soon, in any case; she'd know what to do.

But in the meantime, he had to figure out how to answer the one question Hugo and Rose hadn't stopped asking since they brought the creature in: _Can we keep her?_

He thought about litter boxes, toys, hair _everywhere_, scratches, visits to the vet… all of which he'd have to figure out how to do. And, again, he wasn't fond of kneazles. At all.

But he knew his kids were in love, knew that Hermione would be enamored as well—so how could he refuse?

Sighing heavily, he looked into the yellow eyes of the kneazle in front of him. "You got lucky this time. Assuming you don't actually belong to anyone else." He tried not to get his hopes up, but the chances that this kneazle belonged to anyone were slim, judging from her appearance.

The kneazle blinked at him slowly, then meowed. A truce, then.

Ron considered it for a moment, then nodded grudgingly. It was as good an arrangement as any, he supposed.


End file.
